


Mooning About

by Bobcatmoran



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Astronomy, Lunar Eclipse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 17:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12893460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobcatmoran/pseuds/Bobcatmoran
Summary: Grantaire takes Combeferre home for the night, in order to see a lunar eclipse.





	Mooning About

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sovin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovin/gifts).



> Many thanks to my perennial holiday exchange beta. Any remaining mistakes you may see are my own.

“You know, there are little men up there.”

“Up where, madame?” Combeferre tried to discretely look at his pocket watch while juggling his telescope, tripod, and almanac. 

“On the moon! They live by the oceans. I daresay you’ll be able to see them through your telescope there.” 

“Ah, Madame Poilane, your wisdom in all matters astronomical is a deep as the _maria_ of the moon,” Grantaire declared loudly, cutting off his concierge. “But alas, my friend here has an appointment with the Lady Selene, whose pitted countenance — though no match for yours —he is deeply in love with. I must away to escort him to his rendezvous, for time, tide, and the celestial orbs wait for no man.” He gave a rather forced grin and, offering an arm to a grateful Combeferre, left the concierge behind. 

“Mind,” Combeferre said as they ascended the stairs to Grantaire’s rooms, “I do not discount her theory that there are indeed men on the moon, or at least some sort of life. If life here on Earth can develop in such a variety of places, in such a wide assortment of forms, surely it can survive on other worlds, no matter the conditions.” 

“So what you are saying then is that Madame Poilane’s moon men are more like moon giraffes, taking absurd forms, or perhaps like the slime that grows in an unemptied wash basin, a lunar sludge, if you will.” 

“I only wish that I could make out those details,” Combeferre said. “Perhaps one day, we will be able to travel the distance to the moon and see for ourselves. With all the aeronautical advances being made, I don’t doubt that we would be able to reach there before the century is out.”

“Mm,” Grantaire hummed. “I fancy myself a more Earthly creature. This world here has enough to keep me entertained without having to worry about any further celestial bodies.”

“Speaking of entertainment, I never properly thanked you for dinner,” Combeferre said. “I’ve never had a stew like that, with the spicy peppers.” 

“It is a speciality of M. Carême,” Grantaire said. “The bread he serves would be better put to work pounding in nails or perhaps as bricks, and his wine cellar would be better called a vinegar cellar, but in that one dish, he is beyond compare.”

“It was lovely,” Combeferre said. “If this is what it means to be courted by you — dinner and the provision of a personal observatory, I shall be spoiled for all the attention.”

Grantaire snorted, and unlocked the door to his lodgings. “Behold! A window with a southeastern exposure, perfect for your mooning about at the moon.” He gestured with a flourish towards his window. 

“Did you clean it?” Combeferre asked, noticing the streaks on the inside. 

“I made an effort in that direction, though not towards the direction of exterior. Should I have had the winged boots of Hermes, I would have attempted that, but I fear that I am but a mortal and would plummet to Earth if I tried leaning out the window in that manner.”

“The effort is appreciated,” Combeferre said, “but I think that I will open the window when the time comes for the eclipse, nonetheless.”

“Well, I had best stoke my furnace then, before you let all the heat out,” Grantaire said, bending to light his stove. “Let’s take off the winter chill while we may.”

Setting aside his half-completed telescope assembly, Combeferre went over to Grantaire and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t have to open the window if you’d rather I not. It is your lodgings, after all.”

“Pay me no mind,” Grantaire said, absently reaching up to cover Combeferre’s hand. “I rarely bring home company, and I know full well that my mouth spouts utter nonsense when I am uneasy.”

“Do I make you so uneasy then?

“Only that I fear you’ll find me wanting in some manner. I know this,” Grantaire gestured towards the room at large, “is hardly impressive. I know that I need to take that pile of linen to the laundress, that half my furniture is covered in old, dried-out daubs of paint, that said paints themselves are also old, dried-out, and fit for nothing but the trash heap, and that my stove refuses to stoke properly.”

“I should take you back to my own lodgings next time,” Combeferre said, smiling. “Courfeyrac fears that I will be crushed someday under my haphazard piles of books and papers, and I know full well how unpleasant the side-effects of some of the more hands-on parts of medical studies can be.” 

“Next time,” Grantaire echoed, poking at the stove in a desultory manner.

“Indeed,” Combeferre said, bending down to give Grantaire a kiss on his head. “I need to finish setting up my telescope before the hour. The eclipse is supposed to start at 9:50.” 

“What is this lunar eclipse anyhow?” Grantaire asked, getting up. “I won’t disagree that seeing the mountains of the moon through your telescope is a treat, but I’ve gathered that this is something more unusual.” 

“I’ve only seen one once as a boy,” Combeferre said, screwing together the tripod’s legs, “but they’re actually quite common, a few every decade. It happens when the Earth’s shadow falls across the moon. It doesn’t quite blot it out completely, but the moon appears red.”

“If it’s a good Republican red, then perhaps Enjolras would have made a better companion for you tonight,” Grantaire said.

Combeferre laughed. “Enjolras is a dear friend, but he has little appreciation of astronomy. He would enjoy the experience of my enthusiasm but would not derive much joy from the event itself. You, on the other hand, I remember lurking about the telescope more than any of the others when I had that Saturn-viewing party last spring.”  

“Only because the conversation was bad otherwise. Joly kept going on about ‘orbital dynamics’ or some such, and I cannot stand a lecture on geometry. Leave that to the neoclassicists. Eared planets are far better company in that case, as they listen much and speak little." 

“Ringed planets,” Combeferre correct absently, attempting to screw the telescope to its base. “It’s some sort of ring, even though it appeared a bit like ears that night due to the light.”

“I prefer to think of it as an eared planet, as that image is more amusing,” Grantaire said. “Do you want me to hold the tripod steady for you while you do that?”

“Please.” 

Combeferre fiddled with the tripod, and mused, “I do wonder, though, why it is Saturn has rings and the other planets do not. I suspect, even with aeronautical advances, I will not live to see us travel that far.”

“You could always get a bigger telescope,” Grantaire said.  

“Alas, I fear even Herschel’s great telescope in England isn’t up to the task. But here! It’s 9:55. Does the moon look smaller to you?”

“Perhaps?” Grantaire squinted at the full moon. 

Combeferre stooped to peer through his telescope and fiddled with the focus. “Agh, it’s always so hard to find…there! Look here, Grantaire, you can see the tiniest bit of a shadow already.”

Grantaire took Combeferre’s place at the telescope. “Look at that! The mountains are in such stark relief, all complete shadow and bright light and nothing in between. I wonder, should you go to the moon, would you, too, appear in monochrome? Do your moon men only deal in absolutes, knowing no shades of grey?”

“We would have to ask them, and I fear there’s not a speaking-trumpet large enough on Earth to do so.” 

“Alas.”

 

* * *

 

The progress of the eclipse was slow, the line of the Earth’s shadow creeping inperceptibly across the moon’s surface, yet fast enough that if one turned away for five minutes, it would have visibly moved. Combeferre stationed himself at the telescope, occasionally calling Grantaire over. However, standing in front of an open window in the December cold while relatively inactive was a chilly business. The warmth of Grantaire’s stove was feeble, unable to reach the far reaches of the room. Combeferre blew on his hands and then stuck them in his armpits in an attempt to keep them warm.

“Cold?” Grantaire asked, from the station he’d taken up near the stove.

“A bit, perhaps, but I shall manage.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, and went over to a trunk and dug through it, pulling out a wad of fabric. “Here, you can do better than just managing.”

“Is that a Jean Prouvaire scarf?” Combeferre asked, amused, as he shook out the ball of knitted fabric that Grantaire had presented him with.

“It is indeed. However could you tell?” Grantaire asked, deadpan, unfurling a scarf of his own and looping it around his neck multiple times. 

“The four meter length was a hint. I think it is probably a good thing for the sheep of France that he tired of his knitting phase after that one winter. His local yarn merchant must have been devastated, though.”  

“They are terribly warm, nevertheless,” Grantaire said, flipping the ends behind himself. 

“Just the thing for standing by an open window in the wintertime,” Combeferre said. 

“Ah, wait a minute. I have another remedy for the weather. Not quite the nectar of the gods, but perhaps an adequate substitute on a cold night.” Grantaire went over to the stove, and Combeferre heard him rattling about with something. He returned, carrying two steaming mugs in scarf-wrapped hands. “Careful, it’s hot,” Grantaire cautioned.

Combeferre gingerly took a sip of the proffered mug, then coughed. “What is this?”

“You know how Courfeyrac made that mulled wine when we were all over at his place last week?”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s mulled wine. Minus the mulling, as I lack spices or citrus or sugar. So just wine, actually. Heated.”

“It’s…erm…thank you. I think,” Combeferre said. He took another sip, hoping it would somehow taste better this time. “At least it’s hot. And the alcohol helps amplify that effect.”

Grantaire sipped at his own mug. “Hm, not quite how I imagined it.” He sipped again. “Still, better than M. Carême’s wine was.”

Combeferre snorted into his mug. He then glanced up at the moon. “Oh!” He tugged at Grantaire’s arm.

“Careful!” Grantaire clutched his sloshing mug of wine.

“Grantaire, look! The moon!”

The Earth’s shadow had reduced the moon to a bare sliver, but as the sliver faded, before Combeferre and Grantaire’s eyes, the moon re-illuminated into a deep red.

Combeferre could feel Grantaire shiver underneath his hand. He turned to look at him. “Astounding, isn’t it?” Combeferre said.

“Perhaps that is one word for it. It seems to me to be an omen. The color reminds me overmuch of July before last.”

“Yes, the Trois Glorieuses,” Combeferre said. “Those three days before the betrayal.”

“The streets running with blood,” Grantaire muttered.

“I was thinking more of the red flag, but yes, that, too,” Combeferre said, remembering long hours spent stitching and bandaging wounds. “Let us hope that it is a good omen rather than bad.”

Grantaire murmered assent, then raised his mug. “To the coming year. May this red moon shine down upon a happy 1832 for all.”

“Cheers,” Combeferre said, clinking his mug against Grantaire’s and downing another sip with a wince.

**Author's Note:**

> Until the discovery of Uranus’ rings in 1977, Saturn was the only known planet to have a ring system. We now know that all the gas giants in our solar system (Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune) have rings.
> 
> Did I move a total lunar eclipse from September 1830 to December 1831? Yes, I did. Was I manic enough to even look this up? Yes, I was.
> 
> If you want to see a lunar eclipse in real life, you can go to NASA’s [lunar eclipse page](https://eclipse.gsfc.nasa.gov/lunar.html) to see when the next one will be visible in your area. While not as stunning as a total solar eclipse, a total lunar eclipse is still pretty cool!
> 
> Sorry if anyone else thinks otherwise, but I tried heating up a small glass’ worth of decent red wine on the stove For Science (French, even, for Extra Science), and I found it to be pretty nasty.
> 
> Also, I feel obligated to mention this as a person who lives in a place with serious winters: alcohol will not actually warm you up. That warm feeling is your blood vessels dilating, which actually cools you off faster as the blood is closer to the surface of your skin.


End file.
